


Ashes

by mqlecshipper



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Helcaraxë, Years of the Trees, death of Feanor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:40:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22549471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mqlecshipper/pseuds/mqlecshipper
Summary: Shall I mourn you, brother? Mourn the young elf who had been so incredibly cruel to me? You taught me hate and suffering, and even in your death, I do not forget them.Fingolfin's thoughts regarding Feanor
Relationships: Fëanor | Curufinwë/Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of thoughts that Fingolfin has regarding his half brother, upon coming to Middle Earth and realizing that he is dead. Hope you enjoy!

Ashes, they said his body had fallen in. Ashes, burnt up like the hate he had in his eyes.

_Shall I mourn you, brother? Mourn the young elf who had been so incredibly cruel to me? You taught me hate and suffering, and even in your death, I do not forget those teachings._

His fiery spirit was now gone. Burnt up, like those beautiful ships he had seen so long ago…

_Father and mother were certainly cruel to you. Therefore you were cruel to me. But I, I did not wish to be cruel to anybody._

Blood. Blood on his hands. The Teleri had rained arrows, and he had countered them with his sword.

 _It was so hard to let go of that love I had for you, to let go of the hopes I had for a warm older brother, but I had to, for I did not wish to be like you_.

Ice. It was freezing, the cold engraving itself deep into their bones. There was no light.

_You taught me, a young child seeking for love, resentment instead of love. You created hate in the peaceful place that Valinor was, and I was your first student. Instead of letting it slide by like my mother, I absorbed it, like salt soaking in water. I soaked in that loathe, and melted to become that hate entirely._

_Even now, when thinking of you, I am just a mere pile of hatred._

************

“Feanaro! Feanaro!” Fingolfin ran towards his brother, coloring his cheeks a bright pink. “Feanaro!”

Feanor’s silk hair flipped back, and a pair of piercing eyes stared at the child.

“What do you want.” It wasn’t a question. It was a cold statement, meaning to turn the little child away. But it didn’t. Fingolfin wanted to get closer to Feanor. They were siblings, after all—meaning that Fingolfin wished for something special that Feanor wouldn’t show to other people—and there was no being in Valinor who wasn’t interested in befriending Feanor, the eldest, most talented, son of Finwe. Fingolfin, as young as he was, was not an exception.

“I heard you were leaving to Mahtan’s forge tomorrow morning. Why leave so quickly? I wished to talk to you more.” Fingolfin chattered away, stopping when he noticed Feanor’s expression go dark. Where had he gone wrong?

“I don’t have time for you.” Even to a young child, the cold rejection was clear. But Fingolfin didn’t go back. Instead, he stood next to his taller companion, and looked down at the view Feanor had been so absorbed into.

“This is beautiful,” he said as he took in Tirion’s sunset, “I would wish to go with you… if I wasn’t so young.” He took a look at Feanor’s face. He seemed uninterested, with his eyes looking directly into the horizon. “I have an interest in swords. I wish I could go to the forges with you.”

Feanor scoffed. “No you don’t. You’re young and talentless. You wouldn’t be welcome there.”

“I also like hunting.” Fingolfin continued nonetheless. “Mountains and lakes. The greenery makes my heart rejoice. Would you be willing to go on a hunting trip with me?” Fingolfin was ashamed of his lack of eloquence. Next to people around his age his words seemed to work magically, but standing in front of the impressive brother, his language felt so limited, so plain. He wished that he could as beautifully as Feanor did, in his poems honouring the Valar.

“Mountains and lakes,” Feanor scoffed, “A Vanyar down to your bones, aren’t you?” Fingolfin stammered. Why was it, that no matter what he did, he could never seem to be at the liking of his older half-brother? Why did Feanor hate him so much?

“You... you leave tomorrow right?” Young Fingolfin managed to say. “May I give a blessing to your trip?” A curiosity rose above Fëanor’s dark expression. Fingolfin got onto his tiptoes, as he did with his father and his mother, and left a little kiss on the older brother’s lips. “May you have a wonderful trip.” He closed his eyes, waiting for Feanor to say something. But no response came from him.

“Feanaro?” When the young child opened his eyes in curiosity, he saw Feanor raise his head, and for a tiny instant, saw the little tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes. He saw the pale mouth of his older brother shiver, like deer cornered in a hunt, as he had seen countless times when going into the forest with his father. Helplessly desperate.

“Feanaro? Are you-”

“Shut up! Get away from me! If you do this one more time I will kill you! I don’t care if you’re my father’s son!” His voice was hoarse, shaking with rage. Why rage? Fingolfin wondered. After all, it had only been a small blessing, one that he gave his parents every day.

“But...” the confusion had turned into sudden fear. “But I’m your brothe-“

“Shut up!” Feanor cut him off before he could finish the word. “You are no brother to me! Never!” Feanor took the young child by his shoulders and shook him hard. Fingolfin wanted to scream but he couldn’t. He felt fear. Those tear filled eyes pierced him with so much fear. So much sadness and anger. He seemed to be going insane.

Young Fingolfin somehow gathered his breath from his shaking body and asked, “Feanaro, what have I done wrong?”

Sanity seemed to have returned to Feanor’s eyes. He slowly let go of the young frightened child, breathing hard. Then, without warning, he bit down hard on his lip and ran down the hill, like a small animal running away from danger.

“I am not your brother! I am not!” The voice of the young elf, who yet hadn’t become a man, shook as it echoed around the hills. The echos sounded like war cries.

**************

_I was young. I was a young child, thinking that I had something others did not. A young child under the illusion that I was more special than everybody else. Though, thinking back, being completely honest, I was special. I had to be._

_I was young. And I knew it, believe it or not. So I wanted to be older. I wanted to be mature—at least in mind, if not in body—so I was probably a boring kid. I had to be. I had to be special, although I was nothing else but normal._

_But I was young. My eyes widened when I saw a pile of treats, my height barely reached an adult’s waist, and one could still see the signs of a baby in my chubby cheeks. I was a selfish, jealous child, looking for love, wanting to be able to sneak away with treats I had stolen from the kitchen._

_I was a young child craving love and attention._

_And as any child would and should be, I was young. I was small and innocent. So I was ignorant, not knowing it was a sin. The little child who loved you was a little bird, trying to fly for its first time. That little bird had fragile wings that had been caressed with love for all its life, which broke into a million pieces when it flew towards you, and hurt the tiny thing for a long, long time._

_I could never say that I was as miserable as you. My childhood’s sorrows could never compare to the grief you have faced. But I was a young child. You were so, so incredibly tall to look upon, and I was one tiny, tiny, child._

**************

Feanor gifted a handmade sword on Fingolfin’s wedding. He didn’t make an appearance himself. Finwe himself presented the handmade sword, with so much pride in his voice.

Everybody couldn’t help but gasp at the stunning hilt, embedded with sapphires, with a design of the two trees. It was the first gift Fingolfin had received from his older brother.

“Thank you.” Fingolfin had muttered.

“You should thank your brother, not me.” Finwe had said, smiling down at him brightly.

Fingolfin took the sword into his arms, cradling like a little baby.

He learned later on that Feanor had gifted swords to all his family members on the day of Fingolfin’s wedding. Feanor had made sure to get his brother to be so worthless, so unspecial in what should have been his special day. The sword that had once been hung up in his bedroom lay in a corner of a closet for decades. The beautiful creation was reduced into something so unspecial, collecting dust.

**************

“Feanaro, I think you should gift something to Arakano for his special day. Your work, the greatest of the entire Valinor, will surely help shine your brother’s special day.”

“He’s not my brother!” Feanor couldn’t help but shout.

“He is your brother, Feanaro. You both share half your blood with me.”

“You always force that upon me. Knowing that I can’t reject your wishes.”

“I’m not forcing anything upon you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Feanor said. Finwe thought he heard his son’s voice quiver. “Let me tell you about my most recent trip. We took little Tyelkormo for the first time. You won’t believe how much trouble he caused-”

“Stop. Feanaro, my son, I'm not forcing anything on you. But you have never shown a gesture of affection towards Arakano. He simply needs your love.”

“Is sharing a father not enough?” His voice cut through the air. Finwe didn’t reply. The silence was cut by a scoff. “What a greedy child he must be, after taking everything away from me.” He muttered, barely heard.

“Feanaro, my heart had never left you. I always thought about you, even when we were apart. Besides, Arakano is still young. I’m sure he’ll be of a great use to you in the future.” Feanor did not reply. “He is kind and intelligent.”

“Is that it?”

“What?”

“Is that all he is?”

“Feanaro...”

“Forget it. How could I reject your request, _your highness_. If you wish for it… I shall prepare a gift. It doesn’t matter what it is, right?”

“Thank you, Feanaro. Arakano will be so glad. He likes the color blue. And also-”

“Don’t bother. I can tell those things just by looking at him. This is purely for you, father. Now let’s stop talking about him and please listen to my stories about my cute little gems...”

**************


End file.
